- Jun 23, 2005
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Stage Fright
Pastor Bob asked me on Wednsday if I could read my poem. Always eager to be helpful, I agreed. It wasn't until he walked away that I realized what I had done, and I dreaded it the entire week. I was now to read my poem in front of fifty other teens on Sunday. i practiced in front of the mirror: "The bombs/ of drugs and violence/ explode." I practiced for my sister: "People run from her/ but she's to scared/ to change her mind." nothing helped to calm the rapid beating of my heart. My friends would be performing their talents that night. Why did I feel so scared? While i practiced, doubt rose to clutch my throat, and squeeze the breath out of me. then I told myself the thing you say when you know there is no hope: "I can. I have to. I'll go up on stage and read it. I won't be nervous." Sunday morning I woke up, knots already in my stomach, and they only got worse as the day marched toward evening. I was up seventh. Steven was up fifth when I panicked. Doubt had tightned my last breath into a whisper to Missy: "I can't read my poem." Pastor Bob read it for me, and, when I heard the applause. I could breathe again.
Pastor Bob asked me on Wednsday if I could read my poem. Always eager to be helpful, I agreed. It wasn't until he walked away that I realized what I had done, and I dreaded it the entire week. I was now to read my poem in front of fifty other teens on Sunday. i practiced in front of the mirror: "The bombs/ of drugs and violence/ explode." I practiced for my sister: "People run from her/ but she's to scared/ to change her mind." nothing helped to calm the rapid beating of my heart. My friends would be performing their talents that night. Why did I feel so scared? While i practiced, doubt rose to clutch my throat, and squeeze the breath out of me. then I told myself the thing you say when you know there is no hope: "I can. I have to. I'll go up on stage and read it. I won't be nervous." Sunday morning I woke up, knots already in my stomach, and they only got worse as the day marched toward evening. I was up seventh. Steven was up fifth when I panicked. Doubt had tightned my last breath into a whisper to Missy: "I can't read my poem." Pastor Bob read it for me, and, when I heard the applause. I could breathe again.
so what do you think of it?
